Invisible Confetti

I’m the echo in the laughter,

the "maybe next time" in your plans.

They toast their inside stories

while I hold my empty hands.

I light up their dark mornings,

answer every call they miss.

But my sky stays starless,

my moments dismissed.

I’m the one who always shows,

with heart-shaped cookies, stitched-up pride.

They forget I had a birthday —

yeah, I cried but said, “I’m fine.”

I read their captions like a novel

I was never asked to write,

watching group chats buzz without me

under flickering kitchen light.

I'm confetti on the sidewalk

after someone else’s win —

pretty, quiet, trampled,

and not invited in.

Still, I hum the background music,

tie the bows no one will see.

I'm a mirror for their magic —

but who's gonna sparkle for me?